


Until the Distance Between Us is Zero

by melodycanta



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Event Fic, Kisses, M/M, Mutual Pining, Shining Live, Shining Solo Series, secret lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 07:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15944870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodycanta/pseuds/melodycanta
Summary: Tokiya has the brains, and Otoya has the heart.  Between them, they'll figure something out for Otoya's event.Written prior to the Shining Solo Series: Otoya event.





	Until the Distance Between Us is Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Before I even woke up this morning, I had people asking me on CC if I was going to write something for this event. I might do another one, because my initial thought was to do an established relationship fic, but I write mutual pining like it's the only thing I know how to write (it probably is). Also, my wrist has been swollen for three days now, so I really shouldn't have written this, but I did.
> 
> It's a little spicier than normal; they're both over the age of consent and such, so nothing to worry about here.
> 
> The final parts of the fic and the title reference the first chorus in Secret Lover:
> 
>  
> 
> "Secret scandal（Scandal）O,Oh"  
> Secret scandal（Scandal）O,Oh
> 
>  
> 
> "ここで君の手取ったら？"  
> What if I took your hand here?
> 
>  
> 
> "ゼロ距離まで（Scandal）Walking"  
> Until the distance between us is zero (Scandal), Walking
> 
>  
> 
> "耳もとで「Come here」…Ah"  
> Whispering in your ear, "Come here" ...Ah
> 
>  
> 
> Like all of my event fics, this one is barely edited, so if you find a mistake, feel free to let me know.

“And five, six, seven, eight.”

Otoya goes through the steps, careful on the kick on the second beat, spinning around using the cane in his left hand as a balance point. Tokiya might be his best friend, but he’s also a perfectionist _to the max_ , and he’s stopped their rehearsal for something as miniscule as a wrong head turn sending a lock of hair too far across his cheek. 

He’s a hardass, as Syo likes to say.

That’s not a bad thing. Tokiya is always about precision and excellence, and there’s nothing more impressive than watching him perform the same choreography he’s teaching Otoya without a single misstep. His vibe is the effortless, sexy, cool, and of course, on Otoya, it’s not any of those; it’s just a bit of an awkward mess.

He pulls off the rock step with a lot more grace than he had the first time, using the momentum to carry him into his slide, and spins the cane around in a circle. That move had been a disaster; he’d hit himself in the head so many times he was pretty sure he had brain damage from it. This time it comes close to hitting him in the nose, but it barely misses, and he exhales a sigh of relief.

“Stop.”

Otoya bites his lip to keep from groaning in frustration as he halts. “What did I do this time?” he whines.

“Nothing. You were fine. The choreography seems wrong.”

“Huh?”

Tokiya doesn’t even seem to be looking at him. He’s looking through him, one hand on his mouth as he thinks it over. Otoya mimes the next few steps and sees the issue. There’s something missing that makes the movements feel empty, like he’s a puppet dancing instead of a man. 

Tokiya performs the steps, and they’re flawless. His fingers are elongated, the lines of his body simple but so damn perfect, and even his expression seems to fit. This choreography is very Tokiya, and as much as he tries, Otoya is no match for Tokiya. That doesn’t mean he can’t stare in adoration.

Otoya isn’t dumb. He’s aware of his own feelings, and he has been for a long time, which was pretty much as soon as he figured out his feelings for Haruka weren’t romantic. She is beautiful and lovely and everything that he should want, and he does love her, but not like that. He loves her in the way that he loves someone who understands what it’s like to not feel worthy of the success they’ve had, and he loves her as a friend. She will always support him and the others, and it’s a love of trust and warmth.

And it’s nothing like what he feels for Tokiya.

He feels trusting of Tokiya—there’s no one he trusts more—but everything else feels like it’s constantly flipped upside down. He feels a tightness in his chest whenever Tokiya smiles at him, and a heat rise to his cheeks, and that’s just a _smile_. Butterflies kick up in his stomach whenever Tokiya gives him the slightest compliment, which would still be there if he just admired him, but it’s not admiration to watch Tokiya’s sleeping form and the way his eyelids twitch lightly when a beam of moonlight shines just right through the curtains. It’s not admiration to have his heart beat twice as fast whenever Tokiya bites his lip during dance practice. And if Otoya has imagined Tokiya spread out under him on the bed, breathless and flushed a few times, well, that’s probably not just admiration either.

Tokiya exhales loudly as he straightens up. He looks stressed, and when he looks over at Otoya, the expression only intensifies. Otoya can’t blame him; this has been quite the process. Cecil wasn’t nearly this hard to produce.

“Are you okay?” Otoya asks him.

He waves the question away and massages his temples with his fingers. “This isn’t working,” he mutters.

Otoya knows logically that Tokiya doesn’t mean that as actual criticism, that it’s just a statement of fact, but it’s still crushing anyways. He feels a bit like he’s been suckerpunched in the gut by the disapproval in his voice. “I’m sorry,” he says around the lump in his throat. 

Tokiya looks up, and there is pure horror in his expression. “I don’t mean you,” he says quickly. “You’re doing fine, you’re doing everything I’m asking of you. I just . . .” He breaks off, huffing in frustration. “But you’re trying to be me,” he finally says.

“Isn’t that the whole point of this?” 

“I thought it would be easier for me, but . . .” Tokiya glares at him reproachfully for a moment, and then motions for him to get ready again. “I’m going to put on the music, and I want you to use what I’ve just taught you to put together a routine for it.”

“What?!” 

“Just let your body move to the music. Trust your instincts. That’s where your strength lies, right?”

They’ve had this conversation before, about how Tokiya has planning in spades, but Otoya has heart. It’s usually a conversation they have halfway through a shared bottle of sake, when they’ve both loosened up enough to admit that the other is pretty inspirational (Otoya loves these nights, partially because he hears that and it makes a warm feeling nest in the pit of his belly, but also because they usually end up laying on the grass outside, looking at the stars and talking about their future, and the future always consists of the two of them together in some capacity). This is probably the first time that Tokiya’s mentioned it sober though, and Otoya stares at him to make sure he heard right.

They stare at each other for a long moment. Tokiya bites his lip.

“I’m starting the music. Get ready,” he says finally.

The opening bars to Secret Lover play, and Otoya closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. This is a song about secret love and teasing, and all of the things he wouldn’t mind doing to Tokiya himself. 

All he has to do is put his heart into it, and his body will do the rest. 

The dance cue starts, and he does. The scene in his head is cobbled together quickly, but it has Tokiya in it, and him trying to impress Tokiya, and it’s probably not all that different from his everyday life, with the exception that in his head he’s a lot smoother and cooler than he really is. His movements feel less awkward, and he stops counting, letting the music move him as he circles and teases, hoping to catch the attention of the perfect man in front of him. 

“Okay, okay,” Tokiya says, pausing after the first chorus, and Otoya stops. That felt really good. He’s never been one to suppress his emotions when performing, but he’s never been quite so open with those ones. “That was good,” he says, and Otoya wonders if he’s just imagining the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. “That was . . . that wasn’t just good, that was phenomenal. We should have just done that to begin with.”

That praise, high praise, is enough to have him beaming. “Really?”

“We already know you can dance,” Tokiya says, sounding only a tiny bit cross (which is negated anyways by the smile on his face; Otoya’s heart flutters). “But that feels more like you. Let’s hammer out the rest of the choreography.”

They spend a couple of hours refining moves and such, and it’s not until Otoya suggests a hip shake during his quick step that Tokiya reacts oddly again. Otoya does the move, and Tokiya sucks in a sudden breath, like Otoya’s just stepped on his toes. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tokiya babbles, and it is babbling, as weird as that sounds in Tokiya’s refined voice. It’s hesitant and stuttering, and that’s a bit concerning because that’s the tone Tokiya makes when he’s lying and can’t cover it up. 

“Why don’t you take a break? Have some water, sit down,” he suggests. He knows Tokiya hasn’t been sleeping much, which usually means his food and water is low too. Times like this are when Otoya misses when Reiji lived with them, because he was always excellent at making sure Tokiya took care of himself.

“You should too.”

It’s way beyond lunch time, so he’s probably right. They sit against the mirror with their water bottles and granola bars (Otoya’s is chocolate-dipped, which Tokiya points out is hardly healthy). “Is this feeling any better?” Tokiya asks.

Otoya nods. “It’s easier! I just feel bad, because you spent all that time preparing, only for us to use very little of it.” There are hints here and there, but it’s pretty much all been deconstructed.

“Maybe I’ll use it someday,” he says. Otoya imagines Tokiya performing it, in costume and with that smile that only performing puts on his face, and he gives a little shudder. “It’s just not you,” Tokiya continues. “You have your own strengths; you shouldn’t be me.”

“What if I want to be you?” Otoya asks, playing with his fingers. He had wolfed down his granola bar, but he now regrets it because there’s nothing to focus on. 

Tokiya stares at him for a long minute and then chuckles. “You just put together a better choreography routine in two hours than I did in two days. You don’t want to be me.”

“I like yours!” he protests. He just doesn’t like him doing it; it should be Tokiya dancing to it.

Tokiya’s eyes soften, and he makes Otoya’s favorite expression, with the corners of his mouth upturned and his gaze warm. It makes Otoya feel gooey inside. He always wants to kiss that smile, but he knows it would disappear if he did. “Come on. If we get done early, I’m sure Kotobuki-san’s mother wouldn’t mind us stopping in for dinner.”

Otoya’s mouth waters at the thought of her curry rice. “Deal!” he says, getting to his feet and pulling Tokiya to his. 

“Okay, the final chorus. Give it all you have, and we’ll refine from there,” Tokiya says.

The final chorus of Secret Lover is Otoya’s favorite part. Tokiya’s gorgeous voice gets even deeper, into this beautiful range that almost sounds like a growl, and it sends a shiver down Otoya’s spine every time he hears it. He sets the scene in his head. The entire song has been a seduction, so this last part has to be where he gets his prey. “Where are you standing?” he asks.

Tokiya checks the staging chart. “I’ll be downstage to the left. Do you want me to stand there to make sure you don’t use that space?”

Otoya nods. 

“Ready? Five, six, seven, eight.”

He immerses himself in what is undoubtedly a fantasy at this point, channeling all of his hidden feelings into his body. The Tokiya in his head keeps giving him shy smiles, encouraging him on, luring him in.

And then he makes the mistake of looking at the real Tokiya, and when their eyes lock, he has no recourse. He _needs_ to do this now, he’s too far in, and when he throws a wink his way, he can see the shock on Tokiya’s face.

And then the blush. He flushes a _beautiful_ shade of rose red, the color blooming in his cheeks.

Otoya dances towards him, flirtatious movements and all, and as Tokiya’s voice over the speaker hits the last note, Otoya hooks the curve of his cane around the back of Tokiya’s neck and pulls him gently forward into his arms.

Tokiya gives a surprised yelp, and his eyes are wide, locked on Otoya’s like a mouse mesmerized by a snake as Otoya dips him. 

The music stops. The only sounds Otoya can hear are his own labored breathing and his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. They’re so close that their noses almost touch. Tokiya is warm in his arms, his own limbs thrown around Otoya’s neck. For a long moment, they just stare at each other.

And then something snaps in Tokiya’s eyes. Otoya instinctively recoils, because the same thing happens when he loses his temper, but one of Tokiya’s hands fists in his hair, and he pulls himself up to kiss him. For a moment, Otoya’s not sure if this is real or if this is the fantasy Tokiya he’s been seducing, but after a beat, he decides he doesn’t particularly care, and slides one of his own hands up to cradle the back of Tokiya’s head. Tokiya’s mouth is warm, and he tastes a touch like mint and granola, and it’s about a million times better than Otoya could have ever imagined. He slides his tongue against the seam of Tokiya’s lips and receives a whine in return. If Otoya didn’t know better, he’d think that the desperate grip that Tokiya has on him would signal some sort of desperation, like he’d been waiting for this for a long time too, but this is _Tokiya_. He’d have figured out some way to express how he felt before this.

Otoya’s lungs ache far before he pulls away, but he has to gasp for breath when he does. Tokiya is flushed beneath him, his eyes dilated and panting, and Otoya has a new favorite expression. He expects Tokiya to pull away at some point, to stammer out some sort of excuse to exit, but he just seems a little stunned. The hand that has been clutching at his shoulders slides around to cup his face, and he thumbs Otoya’s bottom lip like he’s not entirely sure what’s just happened.

And then Otoya understands. Tokiya’s waiting for him to run. He’s waiting for Tokiya to run. 

What would the Otoya in his head do?

Carefully, he removes his hand from the back of Tokiya’s head and places it over the hand that Tokiya has on his cheek. “What would you do if I took your hand here?” he says, mimicking the lyrics of the song. His voice is low, like it’s coming from his chest, but to be honest, all of this feels so much like a dream that he’s not entirely sure his head is attached anymore.

Tokiya’s gaze had dimmed, but it immediately flares back to life, his eyes widening in surprise. “Come here,” he says. He angles his head up for another kiss, and Otoya reciprocates immediately, lowering him to the ground so that he can use both hands.  
They don’t quite make it out of the studio in time to grab dinner out, but as Tokiya smooths down his ruffled collar, he presses another kiss to the back of Otoya’s neck, and Otoya figures he’d rather stay in instead. After all, he’s got a few more fantasies he wouldn’t mind fulfilling.

**Author's Note:**

> If you thought I wasn't going to use that cane, you are sorely mistaken.


End file.
